


for one more day (please stay)

by 99z



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Time Travel, angst turned fluff, i dont know what i'm doing, i love them both but angst, so there, something about wishes, tagged it as major character death but there's more to it, unexplained shits that can only happen on fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 06:10:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20353681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99z/pseuds/99z
Summary: San hoped for a lot of things—from ideal stuff like world peace, eradication of poverty, equality to less ideal stuff like for the rain to come on days he felt like wearing a hoodie or for the sun to shine on days he felt like staying in bed.San hoped for a lot of things but most of all, San hoped for a miracle.For one more day with him.





	for one more day (please stay)

**Author's Note:**

> so hi, first ateez fic. it's a two chaptered fic and i've decided to post the first one today. this was a product of insomnia, coffee, that one prompt that never got off my head and repeatedly listening to spring day. i hope you all enjoy this angsty fic.

If San would count how long it has been—well it has been 11 months, 31 days, 23 hours and 57 minutes since Wooyoung died.

San didn’t keep track of it—no, of course not because that would have been painful. Why would San keep track of the days he’s been alone in this world? Why would he keep track of the days he stopped smiling? Of the days he couldn’t get out of the bed so one of his friends have to strong arm him into at least showering?

No, of course San didn’t keep track of how fast or slow the clock ticked after Wooyoung died. He just knew. No matter how many times Hongjoong threw out his calendar, no matter how many times Yunho turned his phone off, no matter how many times Mingi tried to coax him into getting out of his room,

San just knew that it has been almost a year since he lost the light of his life. 

It’s not painful. It stopped being painful after the first six months. Right now, he’s just numb. A steady floating object in the middle of the ocean. That’s what he felt like. San stared at the calendar he kept on his wall, Shiber clutched to his left—the side Wooyoung used to always claim. He managed to pick himself up after the first six months, or well he picked up what was left of him. Wooyoung took parts of San with him and he hoped the younger knew that. 

Flashes of light, all in different vibrant colors illuminated his room from the glass door of the balcony Wooyoung insisted to have. San tilted his head towards the explosion of lights, captivated by the display of beauty against the stark darkness of the sky.

People say a lot of things about New Year but the most common of it all was the fact that it’s a chance to restart—to leave things behind and to create a new set of memories. New Year was a _ chance _ if we’re keeping it short. San wanted that—he wanted another chance.

A knock broke his train of thoughts but he didn’t look back to see who it was, instead his eyes drifted towards the clock he kept on his bedside table as the door to his room then opened.

‘_11:58 pm'_

“Sani.” Hongjoong’s gentle voice filled the air. San almost flinched at that, having been in his room for the whole day, his ears became a little too sensitive to sounds. He felt the bed dip beside him so his arms automatically moved Shiber out of the way. He could feel Hongjoong lie down and honestly San forgot what it felt like—lying beside another human being. He almost felt relief, if not for his brain thinking that, ‘_ it wasn’t the same _’. Of course it’s not the same.

It will never be the same.

“Hi hyung.” He replied, voice rough because of disuse and barred of any emotion, his eyes still trained outside, and his grip on Shiber just a tad bit tighter.

“It’s New Year in two minutes.” Hongjoong gently said, always gentle—as if he’s afraid San was going to break if he raised his voice. San hated that.

“I know.” San responded after a while, eyes moving back towards the digital clock perched on his bedside table. 

‘_5__6, 57, 58 59… 11:59pm_’

“One minute from now, it’s officially a year since he died, hyung.” San broke the silence, his voice void of any emotion. He felt Hongjoong flinch beside him and he would feel bad but he’s not capable of feeling anything at the moment—no, actually it’s been months but who cares? Definitely not him.

“Sani, I—” Hongjoong tried but San abruptly sat up, effectively cutting off the apology that he knew was going to fall from the older’s lips. 

San was so tired of hearing the same sorry’s. San was tired of the pity. Pity won’t bring him back. 

San held Shiber in his arms, eyes trained to the stuffed toy before he glanced at the older who appeared dumbfounded on his bed.

“It’s fine. You have—” He shifted his gaze from Hongjoong to the clock,

“—40 seconds before the New Year starts, go back to Seonghwa hyung.” San forced a smile on his face, it felt foreign and unnatural but it was going to calm Hongjoong long enough for the older to make it outside to their friends and to do the usual New Year’s countdown happy people do.

“But—” Hongjoong tried to argue but San won’t have any of it. Honestly, he just wants to be left alone. He had a different thing to celebrate—no, that’s not the right word, _ reminisce _probably.

“But nothing, hyung. Go out, I’ll be fine.” His glance once again drifted towards the eye catching shift of colors outside, looking away from the intense stare the older was giving him. Avoiding eye contact made San feel safe, sheltered from the judgment and analysis people have been keen on giving him since he decided that living half a life was not worth it.

“You know, old people used to say that New Year is when wishes are more likely to come true.” 

San looked back and saw Hongjoong admiring the fireworks from where he was sitting. San saw the older’s glazed eyes, the sad turn of his lips, and the gloominess that radiated off him. He thought it was odd because New Year was supposed to be a festivity that celebrates joy and reborn selves. Although San couldn’t really be the judge here since he also wasn’t keen on celebrating New Year traditionally this year—or for the years to come. Not when _ it _ happened on this day.

“Is it now?” San chose to reply after moments of silence, indulging the older in his attempt at small talk. 

“Yeah something about last hurrah. So I hope you get your heart’s desire this year, Sani.” Hongjoong stood up and San briefly caught him wiping his eyes before walking out the door. 

San stood up from his bed, his feet dragging him closer to the glass door of the balcony. Shiber was still clutched tightly in his right hand. 

“Wishes, huh?” He whispered to no one in particular. 

The mixture of the red and green explosions was reflected in San’s eyes as he stared intently at the sky, the wooden floor cold to his feet, body draped in comfortable clothes.

He could distantly hear the start of the countdown.

_ 10... _

San thought hard about Hongjoong’s words. No, he didn’t believe it one bit because that kind of saying was only made to keep hope alive—to convince their self that starting anew is a good thing. People tend to forget that in order for things to start, it must first end.

And for San it ended a year ago.

He didn’t want to start again, he didn’t know how or where to start. He moved Shiber closer to his chest, hugging the toy when melancholy filled him.

_ 9... _

Time seemed slow for San. The countdown slower than he would have liked. His eyes moved towards the clock, again. One would think San was anxious about something with how often he checked the time and the calendar but no he wasn’t. San wasn’t anxious, San wasn’t keeping track.

San was wasting away. San had nothing left to do but count the time that has passed—the time he kept on wasting, sitting lifeless inside the comfort of his own room.

_ 8... _

Nevertheless, San thought about what he would wish for. He thought about the kids he would pass by on the way home, how their dirty hands were too dainty for the harsh work life subjected them. San thought about the slurs people used to throw at him while he was casually strolling the streets, hands intertwined with Wooyoung. San thought about the obvious preference their supervisors had on men over women. 

San thought of all the things he could have wished for if he wasn’t as fickle and selfish as he was.

Those wishes would have made the world a better place.

_ 7… _

Eyes trained to the fireworks display in front of him, San couldn’t help but wonder how it would be like to be able to feel again. To be able to laugh at Mingi’s jokes, to banter with Yeosang, to giggle like kids with Yunho, to cry on movie nights with Hongjoong, to get mad at Jongho for stealing his stash of chips on the counter, to annoy Seonghwa until the older actually chase him out of the house, to make Wooyoung smile so bright San won’t have any other choice but to smile as well.

Because Wooyoung was and will always be San’s happiness.

San wondered what it would be like to explode again, with so much joy, pain, or anger—just like the fireworks in front of him. 

_ 6… _

All of that was possible a year ago. 

_ “You’re better together _” was a phrase San often heard and he didn’t have any objections because that was the truth. Wooyoung made him a better person. Wooyoung kept him in tact, in place. Always chastising San for not cleaning up after himself, calming him down when he has too much energy for the people around them.

Wooyoung completed San, no bullshit there.

_ 5… _

If Wooyoung was here he would probably throw something at San for not getting ready before 12 pm, for not going out of the room and socializing with people, for crying for six months, for shutting himself out from people.

If Wooyoung was _ still _ fucking here, none of this would have happened to San. Hell, San won’t even be like this.

_ 4… _

San needed Wooyoung that much was true.

But he’s been dead for a year. Let's stick to the facts.

_ 3… _

It surprised him when the first teardrop fell. So maybe he didn’t master the art of not caring after all. His act wasn't perfect.

He heard a loud countdown from outside, boisterous laughter from the streets, and a booming explosion from the sky. All sounds loud enough to mask his own contribution to the noise—the sound of his heart breaking. 

_ 2… _

“_ ...New Year is when wishes are more likely to come true _” 

San bitterly chuckled at that, eyes falling shut once the atrocity of the bright joyous sky became too much for him, missing the shooting star that passed by. Shiber was tightly clutched to his chest while his sobs rang throughout the room despite the chaos of noise happening all at once.

_ “Come back to me.” _

San whispered just before everyone barged inside his room to greet him. 

_ 1! _

He quickly wiped at the tears that fell from his eyes before looking back at the six people who never left him despite his insistence on pushing them away.

“Happy New Year too guys.” San tried to smile but he knew it barely resembled one.

They all nodded at him, understanding his need to be alone for the day. They all came in to give him a hug, a pat on the back, and a few words of encouragement before saying their farewells. 

San was ready to go back to the comfort of his bed when a hand gently grabbed his wrist, effectively stopping him from walking away.

It was Yeosang. 

The older was smiling at him although San could see how it took a lot to produce that smile and he understood why.

Yeosang was probably hurting more than him, he was Wooyoung’s best friend after all.

“Let’s talk outside?” The pink haired boy dragged him towards the balcony he’s been staring at for the past hour or so. San let himself get dragged, no protest leaving his mouth because he had an inkling as to what kind of talk Yeosang wanted.

San would ask why they kept on bothering him but then again they’ve always been overbearing since it happened.

“So, you spent New Year alone in your room? What was that like? Must be nice.” Yeosang asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. San scoffed at that his elbow resting on the bars of the balcony. 

“Shiber proved to be a great company.” He decided to just ride along with whatever shit Yeosang was trying to pull. He turned to look at the older whose face was illuminated by the lights still displayed above them. 

Yeosang looked sad as his eyes wandered the now empty sky. San could relate.

“You know if he’s here he’d punch you.” Yeosang muttered. San didn’t know if he was seeing things or if Yeosang’s eyes really shined with tears because he never cries. Not even on Wooyoung’s funeral.

“If…” San echoed. He didn’t need to be reminded of that but he couldn’t even get mad at Yeosang because the boy was hurting just as much as he was, probably more. It’s just tiring having to be at the primary receiving end of all the pity and the apologies whenever the person he was talking to inevitably fucks up and utters something remotely related to his boyfriend.

But this was Yeosang and he’s not just any other person.

“Yeah _ if _ because he’s dead San and it’s been a year since you last felt like a human being to us all. I know Wooyoung and if he could resurrect himself, he fucking would just so he can kill you.” There was anger in his words and it was barely concealed, that much was shown with how his voice quivered and his grip tightened. San’s eyes drifted towards the poor metal Yeosang was gripping. He couldn’t help but chuckle albeit bitterly. 

He won’t hear any of this, not today.

“I’m tired. Can you save all of that for the next time we meet?” He coldly replied, moving away from the edge of the balcony to go back to his room. 

He was ready to forget everything that happened and sleep another day away but even before he could step inside, Yeosang pulled him again and threw a punch on his face.

The pain didn’t register at first. San had a hard time grasping the concept of pain after pushing it away for so long but then it started blooming little by little—from his cheek towards his whole body and before he knew it he was already crying on the floor.

Fuck, all it took was a punch to finally break the exterior he built for six fucking months. How fucking lame.

Yeosang just stood there, breathing heavily and trying to keep his own tears at bay. He stood and watched as San finally crumbled, hiding his face away. 

San then felt all of it—the pain he tried to suppress on mornings he would wake up alone and not to Wooyoung peppering his face with kisses, the jealousy he tried to keep at bay whenever his friends would look too happy and there he was trying his best to hold himself together, the envy he swallowed upon seeing everyone else with their significant others while San—San tried so hard to forget the image of a bloody Wooyoung in his arms.

It all came rushing back, very much like the explosion of fireworks in the sky—sudden and encompassing. 

“San…” Yeosang crouched in front of him, hands moving to hold San’s shoulders but he slapped it away.

“Fuck you, Yeosang!” He spit, voice filled with venom and vision blurry with tears. 

“I’m—” Yeosang tried but San raised his head to finally look at the man in front of him. Yeosang appeared to be apologetic but San knew the older stood by his words. Yeosang was nothing but stubborn, very much like Woo— 

“Stop. I’m trying, okay?! I’m fucking trying—” A pitiful sob ripped from his throat, cutting off his words. Yeosang moved closer, arms wrapping around him. San struggled because he didn’t fucking need anyone’s pity.

He didn’t.

“I’m trying… so fucking hard, okay? I’m trying to be okay— I’m trying for him—” San was rambling at this point, his words barely comprehensible because of his tears. Yeosang could only nod as he watched his friend finally let someone in after a long period of time.

“I know. Wooyoung would be so proud of you.” Yeosang’s voice broke upon mentioning his name while San’s cries only grew louder. 

He knew Wooyoung. Better than he knew himself. He knew Wooyoung would cut off his own arm before making anyone close to him cry. Wooyoung rivaled Seonghwa’s maternal instincts sometimes and it used to make San feel so damn lucky because he gets to have that man—he got Wooyoung.

He knew that if Wooyoung saw how San coped with his death, the boy would resurrect himself just so he could be the one to kill San—and maybe cry a little bit because that’s Wooyoung for you, selfless and softhearted. He knew that very well, and San did try his damndest to be okay. But it wasn’t easy. It will never be easy. San didn’t know how the others could do it but he fucking couldn’t. So he settled with handling it the way he knew how, shutting himself out.

“I want him back, Yeosang. I just want him back.” He sobbed into his friend’s shoulder. Yeosang kept on rubbing his nape in an attempt to calm him down but it only brought him back to memories of Wooyoung doing the same thing.

It will never be the same.

“I do too, San. I want him back.” Yeosang muttered. 

San would laugh at the two of them if they didn’t look so pitiful right now. Look at them crying over one man, when last year they wouldn’t even be caught crying over a sad movie. 

‘_Wooyoung, you bastard._' San thought.

San didn’t know how much time passed but Yeosang finally let go of the hug and stood up, offering his hand to San who accepted it.

“You should rest.” Yeosang said, voice hoarse from crying. San nodded as they both finally entered his room. It was quiet now, the ruckus outside had finally ended because of how late it was. San’s eyes naturally fell to the clock beside his bed.

_ 1:17 am _

San wanted to laugh at the odd arrangement of the numbers. _ November 7th _ if you rearrange it. _ 1:17 am _ if it’s the time of Wooyoung’s death. What a sick coincidence.

“I’m going now.” 

San didn’t look back and instead let the decreasing sound of Yeosang’s footsteps fill the room. He went back to lie down on his side of the bed, placing Shiber back on Wooyoung’s side. 

“Goodnight, Woo.” He whispered before he passed out from the tiredness this day brought him.

* * *

San’s ears have always worked faster than the rest of his senses so he heard it before he could feel it.

There seem to be sounds of someone kissing— what exactly? Well his brain was still too asleep to figure that out. 

“Sani~ wake up~” A familiar voice.

And that's when he felt it. Someone was kissing _ his face _. 

San bolted upright because of that, tears immediately streaming down his face because who the fuck would play this prank on him? He hid his face on his palms out of frustration and fucking anger, he’s sure if he didn’t keep his hands to himself, he’s going to punch whoever’s beside him right now.

“San?” 

He froze.

It sounds like Woo—no, his head must be playing with him. He felt dizzy with how fast his head moved to look at the man beside him.

He was expecting to see Hongjoong or Seonghwa and he was ready to scream his fucking head off because he didn’t need this after what happened yesterday.

Except it was actually Wooyoung who greeted him.

“Did you have any nightmares?” 

Wooyoung was in front of him, asking him about nightmares. How was fucking Wooyoung in front of him? San was sure he’s going insane now. He was left speechless and the Wooyoung in front of him found that odd as he started to wave his hand in front of San.

San didn’t know if he should cry or scream. So he fucking did both and ran towards the bathroom.

He fucking reached it. He’s finally insane. He’s seeing things, and there’s a man who looked like Wooyoung outside of his bathroom. San was going_ insane _. 

“San what the actual fuck?” Wooyoung knocked on the bathroom door and San flinched at the annoyance he sensed in his voice. 

He sounded a lot like Wooyoung, acted like Wooyoung too. San would be really be scared if he wasn’t feeling all over the place right now. 

He stared at the clock situated in his bathroom. 

_ 1:17 pm _

What the fuck? 

His eyes then moved towards the calendar beside him and his knees weakened at the sight, his blood ran cold. 

_ December 30, 2018 _

“But that was last year… I-” San stumbled back, hands searching for something to hold onto. 

This couldn’t be happening to him. What kind of sick twisted fuckery was this? How was he back to the day before Wooyoung died?

His hand gripped onto the shower curtain separating the shower area from the toilet, his hold was too strong though because the curtain rod fell down on him and grazed his left arm.

The shot of pain that went up his arm was definitely enough proof to convince him that this was indeed happening and it was not a product of sleep deprivation.

"San? What the fuck is happening there?" Wooyoung's loud voice can be heard through the door, his incessant banging was ringing throughout the silent bathroom.

San still couldn't believe what the fuck was happening but he finally felt something.

Longing. 

He longed for the man that was outside the door. If that was indeed Wooyoung and he was, as a matter of fact, back on the fucking day before Wooyoung died—

No wait, he's got to approach this rationally. How was he suddenly thrust in a universe wherein Wooyoung was alive? Did he somehow die in his sleep? Was it all a dream? How the fuck was he suppose to approach this?

San's train of thoughts were all over the place. He was trying to accept _ and _ reject the idea of Wooyoung being alive.

He's been dead for a year.

With how pre-occupied he was, he didn't notice the sound of the door unlocking and the gasp Wooyoung let out upon seeing San sprawled on the floor, arm bleeding from the accident a while ago.

"Holy shit San, what happened here?" Wooyoung stood frozen at the doorway, eyes furious and worried at the same time. 

San felt nauseous. _ 'He looks too real.' _

He saw the younger move towards the medicine cabinet to grab a bunch of supplies San didn't even know existed 'til now. He asked no further questions but if he were to base this Wooyoung on _ his _Wooyoung, the younger was probably brimming with anger.

Wooyoung used to get annoyed when San's clumsy ass gets himself on numerous accidents that shouldn't even be an accident. He grumbled a lot about how he took such good care of San but San couldn't even do the same to himself. Suffice to say, he was blushing and an embarrassing mess during those times—simultaneously whining about how hard Wooyoung pressed on his wounds.

Wooyoung wordlessly grabbed him and sat him on the stool they kept inside the bathroom, the younger then stood in front of him, inspecting the gash on San’s left arm. It wasn’t that deep but it was deep enough to cause some bleeding. 

San couldn’t look away even if he tried. Wooyoung’s silver hair was messy from all the turns he probably did while sleeping, his eyes puffy given that they had just woken up, lips poised in a pout like it usually was whenever he’s upset. Hours ago, San wouldn’t have believed it if someone told him he’d be able to see Wooyoung again. 

But here he was, sitting in front of the man he mourned for months ago.

By some stroke of fucking luck, Wooyoung was alive and in his world again. Wooyung was alive. The younger dropped the gauze he was going to tape on San’s arms when San pulled him in a hug. 

“Sani?” Wooyoung questioned although his arms fell into their natural place, around San’s shoulder. 

San hid his face on Wooyoung’s torso, blinking back the tears that formed at the thought of being able to hold him again. He deeply inhaled the younger’s scent, arms tightening around Wooyoung’s waist.

San didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to lose Wooyoung again.

“Hey, talk to me. You’re kind of scaring me here.” Wooyoung tried to laugh it off but he sounded off. 

If San found all of this strange, his behaviour must have struck Wooyoung as odd as well. He gave Wooyoung’s waist one last squeeze before pulling away. His head still bent down because he knew that his face mirrored sadness right now, and Wooyoung would no doubt ask him a lot of questions at the first sight of San’s downtrodden expression.

“I miss you.” Was what he decided to say instead, putting his left arm out for Wooyoung to continue patching it up. The younger didn’t say anything and instead carried on catering to San’s wounds. San knew Wooyoung didn’t believe him but he was also the type to let a person talk to him on their own accord so he’s safe for now.

He’s that precious.

“There all done.” Wooyoung said after a few minutes, leaning down to give it a small kiss. San smiled at that. It has always been a habit of Wooyoung to kiss any wound, proudly claiming that his kisses make them heal faster.

Fuck, how San was able to manage months without him was beyond his comrephension.

He stood up and held Wooyoung’s hand, pulling him away from all those mess. Literally and metaphorically.

San didn’t know if he should talk about it with Wooyoung. Was it even a good idea to bring it up? Because fuck, Wooyoung died and somehow—miraculously, he’s alive now? What did all of this even mean? Did San travel back in time? Was someone sick messing with him, bringing him back on the worst day of his life? 

What the hell was he supposed to do? 

Wooyoung snapped his fingers in front of San, brows furrowed and eyes concerned.

“Are you okay?” Wooyoung asked, “And I want a no bullshit answer, please.” He stepped closer, hands resting on San’s waist. He looked so worried and if San were to guess, his thoughts were probably running miles a minute thinking about what got San this messed up.

“I’m—” 

San tried to look for words. Hell, what should he say? _ You died, but for some reason you’re alive right now and holy fuck I missed you so much please don’t leave me. Please don’t die again. _

Not a good idea.

“I had a nightmare.” _ That’s one way to put it. _ “But I’m okay, Young-ah. Promise.” San smiled, finding it a little easier than yesterday. He leaned down and kissed Wooyoung’s forehead, hand resting on the younger’s nape to comfort him. Wooyoung audibly sighed in relief as San’s lips touched his forehead.

San needed a minute to himself. 

“Why don’t you go order some shit food for our very late breakfast? I’m gonna fix the shower curtain and take a shower first.” San muttered as he pulled away. Wooyoung still looked skeptic but he let it go, kissing San on the cheek before walking towards the kitchen. 

San was thankful he was leaning on the back of the couch or he would fall face first on the floor with how his knees weakened. He tried to get himself together, grabbing a towel on his way to the chaotic bathroom. 

The water cascading down his body helped him calm down and kind of cleared his mind. He thought about everything that happened before he woke up beside Wooyoung. 

It was New Year, exactly a year after he died. San remembered sulking the whole day and then talking to Hongjoong and the older muttering some shit about wishes and— wait,

“No that can’t be it.” He shook his head, chuckling softly. Wishes? Seriously? 

After that Yeosang came in, made him feel like shit then punched him. There was nothing odd about that, that’s just Yeosang in his natural state. So then he slept and when he woke up he’s now in this shit.

“_ ...New Year is when wishes are more likely to come true _” The sentence suddenly popped into his brain. But he didn’t wish—

_ “Come back to me.” _

“Fuck.” He couldn’t believe this was happening to him right now. Hongjoong couldn’t be right, could he? 

He dried himself off after standing in the middle of the shower for too long. He didn’t want to worry Wooyoung even more so although he would have liked a longer thinking session he had to step out.

As he dressed in his hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, his mind kept drifting to the thought of Hongjoong and the wish. 

So his wish really came true? Because he had nothing else to back this up with. San wasn’t into voodoo stuff and he didn’t believe in the supernatural either. But with all of this happening, he should probably start now.

“San! Pizza’s here!” Wooyoung called out and soon enough the sound of footsteps followed his call as the younger excitedly answered the door. San smiled at that, stepping out of the room while drying his hair. He briefly heard Wooyoung saying thanks before he pushed the door close with his foot, walking past San and going back to the kitchen.

He followed after Wooyoung, eyes fond as he observed the younger prepare the food. San probably sound like a broken record but he missed this and no one could blame him for that. It never crossed his mind that he’ll be able to experience this again. He could go on and on about how important Wooyoung was to him and it still wouldn’t be enough.

He hung the towel around his neck and walked towards where the younger was standing. He wrapped his arms around Wooyoung’s waist, his chin resting on the younger’s shoulder. He saw the smile that graced Wooyoung’s face and fuck San would stare at him forever if time allowed it. Wooyoung didn’t budge from where he was cutting the pizza, handing one to San when he finished.

“You’re so clingy.” Wooyoung teased him, pulling away and facing San as he took a bite of his pizza. 

“You love it.” San replied, taking a bite of his own. They stayed like that, Wooyoung leaning on the kitchen counter with San facing him, talking about small things and teasing each other whenever they could. 

“Hey, I love you.” San whispered as Wooyoung leaned in to wipe the grease that went to his face as he ate. Wooyoung spared him a glance before winking and pecking San on the lips.

“I love you too.” He smoothly replied, turning his back on the older. And San was grateful for that because the tears were sudden and he didn’t even expect them to fall. 

He couldn’t explain how it felt. Having Wooyoung back was surreal. Just yesterday, he wasn’t even expecting to hear those words come out of Wooyoung’s mouth ever again but now—he finally heard it again. Crying wasn’t even enough of an emotion. San was exploding like the fireworks he’s seen the night before, hell they don’t even compare to what he was feeling at the moment. 

The twelve months without Wooyoung felt like he was submerged deep under water, his senses dull and the world around him seemed like a blur. Being in his presence once again—feeling his touch and hearing his voice—San could finally breathe. It was like Wooyoung pulled him up to the surface and now he could see how blue the sky really was, how the splash of waves sounded beautiful against the soft hum of the wind, and how the sand felt warm under his touch.

And all that was just an attempt at explaining how losing someone for a long time then having them back all of a sudden felt like. It didn’t even come close to what it actually feels like.

San quickly wiped his tears away just before Wooyoung turned around and gave him a smile. 

“Should we go out today? The weather’s perfect for a—” Wooyoung suggested, hands busy with cleaning the mess they have made but San didn’t hear any of it.

Instead, his mind brought him back to the accident. Flashes of everything from the hazy streets that San could barely make out while running as fast as he could, the sounds of the car and the pit pattering of rain against the glass, the cold and wet clothes sticking onto his skin, to the pool of blood and Wooyoung’s body in his arms.

“San!” Wooyoung caught him in his arms, San leaned against the younger for support when his knees momentarily weakened. _ He’s got to stop doing this or Wooyoung will die of worry. _San mentally berated himself.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry.” San tried, grounding himself and shaking the memory off his head. He sheepishly smiled at Wooyoung, apology practically written in his eyes.

“Fine? You’re as pale as a ghost and you look like you’re about to pass out. What’s wrong with you?” Wooyoung at this point demanded answers from him. San avoided his gaze but Wooyoung just took his chin and gently guided his gaze back to the younger.

“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung won’t let it rest, San knew that. Wooyoung was stubborn especially when he wants something. San knew he won’t get away with lying so instead of answering (and fucking up because Wooyoung could read him as well as he could read a children’s book) he just closed the distance between them, after all the only way to shut Wooyoung up was to kiss him. A few arguments after they got together taught him that.

San missed his lips and the little sighs he would let out in between as San deepens their kiss. He pulled him closer, hands resting on Wooyoung waist. Wooyoung had the habit of playing with the back of San’s hair while making out with him and San loved it. 

Kissing Wooyoung proved to be a great and effective distraction because the younger pulled him back when San made a move to pull away, the question totally out of his head by now.

“Now who’s clingy?” He whispered in between, biting Wooyoung’s lower lip to which the younger rewarded him with a whimper. He chuckled against Wooyoung’s lips, putting some distance between them and letting the younger chase his lips.

“Shut up and kiss me.” Wooyoung whined, wrapping his arms around San’s neck and pulling him even closer.

Yeah, San missed this a lot.

* * *

Despite waking up around noon, both he and Wooyoung found themselves plopped on the bed—a laptop and a bowl of popcorn between them as they rewatched Sky Castle on Netflix. Wooyoung was on his stomach while San was leaning against the headboard. 

His boyfriend was already fast asleep around episode 4 and that had been a while ago. San chuckled before pausing the series and moving so that he was on his stomach and facing Wooyoung. He laced his fingers with the younger’s and stared at his sleeping face, smiling when even on his sleep Wooyoung gripped San’s fingers.

“I love you so much.” He repeated the words as he kissed each knuckle of Wooyoung’s hand. He stopped speaking when he felt a wave of melancholy fill him, afraid that his voice would fail him. San’s hands moved from Wooyoung’s hand to the side of his face, fingers running through his hair.

Even in his sleep, Wooyoung initially frowned because someone was touching his hair (one of his pet peeves) but then his features turned soft when San started humming his favorite song.

_ Past the end of this cold winter _

_ Until the spring comes again _

_ Until the flowers bloom again _

_ Stay there a little longer _

“...stay—” San couldn’t even finish the song before his emotions got the best of him. His throat closed up and his eyes watered, the song had hit too close to home. If San drifted his eyes shut he could almost pretend that everything was fine. That the accident didn’t happen and this was just another day in their lives.

But the nagging thought of what time it was, what day it was—the habit he picked up while he was out there wasting away kept on reminding him that none of this should even be possible. He was threading the line between life and death, between the past and the present—playing with reality and fantasy. All because of a wish he didn’t know could become possible.

San had to talk to someone else. Someone who won’t send him to a doctor after he explains everything.

San had to talk to Hongjoong.

He got up as quietly as he could, leaving a kiss on Wooyoung’s forehead before grabbing his phone from the nightstand. 

It only took three rings before Hongjoong answered his phone.

“Hey, San.” The older greeted, his voice rough, _ San must have woken him up. _

"Hyung, I need your help. Can you meet me by the cafe in between our apartments?" San rushed, hands moving to grab his keys and wallet. 

"Uh, sure? I guess. See you in five." Hongjoong dropped the call. San grabbed the nearest jacket he could find which happened to be Wooyoung's black jacket, the one they both had. The only clue he had that this was Wooyoung’s was the fruity smell it emitted. He quickly wore it, stuffing his keys and wallet on the pockets of his jeans. 

San needed answers and he had a feeling Hongjoong would be able to answer his questions.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> chapter two, next week. comments and kudos are appreciated. thank you for reading.


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